


Let No Man Tear Asunder

by mynameisnotmac



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: 10-ply boys, Canon-Typical Violence, Darry deserves the world, Daryl Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt dary, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Wayne loves Darry, canon typical drinking, canon typical homophobia, hurt wayne, just a little though, soft, soft daryl, soft wayne, super fuckin soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 18:03:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotmac/pseuds/mynameisnotmac
Summary: 5 times Wayne looked after Darry, +1 time Darry looked after Wayne.  Super fuckin' soft boys.
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Y'all, I'm back with more Letterkenny! I love these boys so much, so obviously the thing to do was put them through emotional hell for your reading enjoyment.
> 
> Thanks so much to @whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome for their editing help and putting up with my erratic writing schedule!

By the time they're ten, Darry's pertnear become a weekend staple at Wayne and Katy's house. Every Friday he takes the bus home with them, and they ride bikes and play by the creek until Mama calls them in for dinner. Then it's evening chorin' and afterwards, they lie like three logs in a row in front of a movie Mama picked up at the little rental kiosk in the town grocery store earlier that afternoon. It's Wayne's favourite part of the weekend, bein' squished between his two favourite people.

On Saturday Darry helps Wayne with his chores and whatever task his Dad gives them for the day. Darry works real hard to show that he can keep up, and earn his meals at the table, even though Mama says that's never necessary. It feels good though, workin' next to his best buddy, and he can't help the grin when he sees Darry practically glowing with pride at Dad's compliments of his cow handling.

In the afternoon they get a break from the work while Dad takes what the Mennonites call a Maddashlope, which is just a funny word for a nap after lunch. While he's snoring on the couch, the three kids creep down to the basement to play until he wakes up. They never make it five minutes before Katy's pullin' out the Dress-up box, orchestrating some wild make believe story. Wayne usually sits criss cross applesauce next to the trunk, watching Katy and Darry put on some act about bein' spies, 'r knights, 'r whatever strikes their fancy. He prefers to watch, but sometimes Katy will put a crown on his head and pull him up, giving him a role to play. Darry will hit him with one of the foam swords, and then he's gotta join in, if only to defend his honour, 'r the castle 'r whatever.

Eventually someone will shout too loud, and Dad'll wake with a holler, so then it's time for the produce stand. It's a family affair, they all truck out their lawn chairs and stools and settle by the end of the property til sundown. Wayne and Darry always cart out the piano bench so they can sit side by each and share whatever treasure Darry's mom sent along that week. Sometimes it's bubble gum, sometimes it's hockey cards; one time, when the guy Darry's mom was dating had a little cash to burn and wanted to make a good impression, it was a handheld gamer. It was cheap and broke a week later, but it was fun while it lasted. Katy sits at their knees, weaving flower crowns out of crabgrass and dandelions, which she trades for Darry's candy cigarettes and buttons. Not that he wouldn't give them to her anyway, Wayne knows Darry adores Katy, and Katy secretly loves Darry too.

It's usually a quiet afternoon until Mama goes to start supper while they pack everything in. Dad makes them take off Katy's flower crowns before they go in, so they take them from their own heads and put them on the dogs before washing up. Mama always makes a fuss about giving Darry an extra helping, saying he's a growing boy and all. Wayne wants to point out that he's a growing boy too, but he knows he's growin' faster than Darry by a long shot, so he says nothing. 'Sides, Darry can't seem to get enough, always tellin' Mama she's the best cook, and that he wishes his Mom cooked like this. Now normally, a cookin' compliment lights up Mama's face like a christmas tree, but when Darry says it, she just shares a sad look with Dad that Wayne don't quite understand, and asks him if he'd like some more.

Sunday mornings Wayne always finds Katy and Darry in the chicken coop, gatherin' the eggs and talking to the hens. He wishes he could help, but he's gotta help Dad, now that he's getting older, and time's a-wastin'. They somehow all make it make to the house in time to wash and dress for church, even though Wayne does his best to drag his feet so they'll be late. He doesn't like the way the minister's son has taken a shining to him, and besides, he knows that once church is over, Darry's gotta go home and he hates that. He knows Mama and Dad wouldn't mind having him around more, but Darry always insists.

"I gotta help mom out during the week. She gets tired real easy." Wayne understands. Darry's mom is a nice lady but often sleepy or forgetful, and sometimes she says and does odd things. So Wayne is content with the schedule they've created. He does like structure, after all. Which is why it throws him for such a loop when he opens the door on Thursday night and comes face to face with his best buddy.

"Darry!" He greets his friend, pulling the door open all the way. His neutral face pulls down into an honest to god frown. "shit." The word slips out under a gasp. Wayne knows he's not supposed to say those kinds of words, but he can't stop himself when he looks at Darry. He's out of breath, a shiner formin' under his left eye, along with puffy red splotches around the rest of his face. There's a couple good scratches that are bleeding too. Darry's playing with the hem of his t-shirt, which draws Wayne's attention to the bruises and scratches down his arms as well. Wayne's eyes start blinking in confusion, unsure of where to start. "What in God's name, how did- what the- what happened? How'd you get here?"

Darry sniffs and shrugs, lookin' at the ground. "Guess I ran here," he says, pullin' at a loose thread.

"You ran here? That's nearly five clicks there Dar."

"I dunno, I got out the door and just started runnin' and then I ended up here Wayne." Darry's voice breaks on the last note and he flings himself at Wayne.

Startled as a stoat, Wayne looks back into the house. "Mama! Dad! Somethin's wrong!"

He wraps an arm around Darry as he hears the scraping of chairs from around the dinner table. "S'okay Dar, please don't cry," He says, tryin' to keep his voice from tightening. His chest feels like someone's put a balloon inside it and won't stop blowin' it up. He pats Darry's shoulder awkwardly, trying to distract himself from feelin' like he's gonna burst.

Mama and Dad come hurrying out, Katy at their heels. They stop when they take in the sight of Darry wrapped around a very confused Wayne. Mama crouches down by the two of them.

"Hey, now, Sweetie, what's the fu..." She's been doing her best to peel Darry off of Wayne but when she sees his face she stops cold. Something in her voice changes. "Darry, Sweetie, what happened?"

Darry doesn't answer right away on account of how he's too busy cryin'. Katy comes and takes one of his hands, and Wayne immediately grabs the other. Darry clings to both of them.

"Mom's gotta new sleepover friend," he finally answers shakily. "He's not very patient." Mama makes a funny noise in the back of her throat and looks back at Dad, who's wearin' a face like thunder that Wayne ain't never seen before.

She gently takes Darry's chin to look at his face better. "Did he do this to you sweetie?" she asks, as soft as she can.

Darry hiccups. "I was just tryna wash the dishes, but he and Mom were doin' somethin' in the kitchen and I was too in the way. He tried to make me leave but we always do the dishes right after supper, and then, and then..."

Darry's full out cryin' again, and Mama's got tears in her eyes, too. Wayne's got this hot feeling boiling in his stomach, the one that always comes with red haze at the edge of his vision, and he's got the urge to start swingin' his fists, seein' tears on his best buddy's cheeks. Darry's clutching onto one of his hands like his damn life depends on it though and that's enough to settle Wayne for the time being.

Dad crouches down next to Mama, trying to make his face soft again. He rests his hand on Darry's shoulder. "Daryl, I want you to listen to me." Dad's always got that gentle but commanding way about him so Darry looks him in the eye and sniffs. "You did nothin' wrong, okay Daryl? Nothing here is your fault." Darry just nods a bit as an answer and Wayne squeezes his hand. "You go with Mama into the dinning room and she'll clean you up, okay? You can have a sleepover here tonight."

"But 's'not the weekend." Darry says, a little confused. Mama chuckles and pats his head.

"That's okay, sweetie." She assures him. "We love havin' you anytime." Wayne's parents go to stand and Dad reaches for the truck keys in his overall pouch.

"Gonna go take care of this." He says quietly to Mama. Wayne starts to follow him to the truck but Dad stops him. "Not today son." Wayne glares up at him. He knows what's going on, he's seen the scars on his Dad's knuckles. That's his best friend back there.

"I wanna help!"

Dad just shakes his head.

"I'm tough, I can do it!" Wayne protests.

Dad puts both his hands on Wayne's shoulders and looks down at him. "I know you're tougher than nails, but Darry needs you here okay? You gotta look after him." Wayne looks back to the porch, where Darry's tryin' to hold back tears, a protective Katy wrapped around his arm. When he faces his Dad again, he's as solemn as a ten-year-old can look.

"That's a Texas-size ten-four," he says, before turning back to the house.

Wayne takes Darry's hand again and he and Katy lead him inside, even though he knows Darry knows where he's going. They set up post, one on either side of the chair. Katy pets his head gently, like she does with her chickens, only now she's doin' it with a glare that could melt ice as she glares out through the window into the dusk. Wayne's got one hand still wrapped around Darry's and the other holding a tea towel of ice to his face. Darry's lookin' up at him, so he tries to keep his features neutral but Lord he wishes he could glare like Katy right now. Mama's bustlin' about finding bandaids and Neosporin.

"Thank you Ms. Mama," he yawns tiredly as she finishes patching him up. She hums and cups his freshly bandaged cheek.

"Of course sweetie," she says. Darry stands and she draws all three kids into a hug. "We love you so much here, Darry."

"Can confirm," Katy pipes up from her side of the huddle. Wayne just nods, his cheek rubbing against the top of Darry's head; he knows Darry understands. Mama releases the kids and starts herding them towards the stairs.

"Okay, off to bed, it's been a big day."

Mama makes them say goodnight to Katy in the hallway before ushering the boys into Wayne's room. She has them put on their PJ's and then tucks them into bed. Wayne's got a big double bed, which is too big for him, but it's been in this room since Wayne's grandparents owned the farm and he's not complaining. Besides, it's good for weekends when Darry's over. After Mama turns out the light, Wayne's settling in on his side when he hears a whimper.

"Darry?" Darry gives a little mmm in response. "What's the fuss?"

"Nothin', everything's fine." He hears Darry sniff. Wayne rolls over and pats the bed beside him.

"Aww Dar, come here." They don't normally cuddle, it's not proper, at least that's what Dad says, but Dad also told him to look after Darry, so that's what he's gonna do. With no further prompting, Darry slides over and tucks himself against Wayne.

"'M sorry." He mumbles into Wayne's shirt. Wayne tugs him closer.

"Don't be sorry there, buddy, it's okay." They're interrupted by the door cracking open. Katy's silhouette blocks the light from the hall before she closes the door and makes her way to the bed.

"If Mama thinks I'd leave him tonight she's got another thing comin'," she says sternly, especially so for a nine-year-old. Dad says it's not proper to share beds with girls unless you gotta, but Wayne would never get between Katy and somethin' she's determined to do, so he doesn't say nothing as she slides in behind Darry, squishing him between them. Besides, he can feel Darry's shoulders relax against him a little, so she must be doin' the right thing.

"Hear that Dar? You're not alone, we're here, we'll look after you." Wayne says it like he's recitin' the weather report, very casual and matter of fact, but it does the trick. He listens as Darry and Katy drift off before closing his own eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Wayne knows for G. D. sure that Darry's lack of academics ain't from lack of tryin'. It's not even that the kid's stupid, cause he ain't, he's just not what the old guys at the coffee shop would call 'scholarly'. Darry's got more facts tucked away in his skull than a ground squirrel's got nuts stored for winter, he's just easily distracted, is all. He'd pick up what you'd put down if you gave him a few extra minutes, Wayne knows. He also knows that Darry don't miss school; he don't like being any more confused than need be, and even more, he hates bein' at his house any more than he has to right now, what with the latest skid his Mom's shacked up with not taking a liking to him. So when Darry don't show up for the last Wednesday of seventh grade, Wayne gets the feelin' that something ain't right.

He's standin' in Darry's yard; the summer's just beginning, but the sun's beatin' down hot enough that he almost wishes he liked wearin' T-shirts, almost. Wayne's everyday glare turns a shade darker as he notices the front door standing open. He stomps his way over to it.

There's a stale smell to the house as Wayne pokes his head inside, but there kind of always is. Something about this feels off to him, but he pushes his way in anyway, ignoring the mess that's been gatherin'. "Darry?" He calls out. Wayne winces as his voice echoes down the hall. It feels too loud, but he doesn't get any response back, so he stalks in after it.

Wayne's boots sound heavy steps as he makes his way to Darry's bedroom door. He knocks once and gets no answer. He pushes it open to find it empty. There's an unsteady feelin' in his gut as he steps back into the hall. He heads further in, to the living room where he don't find Darry, but sure as shit there's Darry's mom, asleep on the couch. Well, she looks like she's sleepin', kind of. It don't look natural, and she don't quite wake up when Wayne calls her name, only stirs a little, like the wilted leaves of Mama's Tomato plants in a light breeze.

Somethin' about all this strikes Wayne as bein' not quite right, but he don't know what to do about it. He does know that he can't stay in the house for a minute longer that's for G. D. sure.

Wayne finds himself standin' in the middle of the yard, unsure of his next move. He shouts Darry's name twice before deciding callin' Darry like a dog is gonna be about as useful as tits on a bull. Making his way over to the little garden shed at the edge of the property, he sits down with a huff. A low growl of frustration slips out as he tries to think of all the places Darry would be. Between his house and the farm, Wayne can't come up with much else. Panic starts settin' in his chest like concrete.

He's glarin' at his Carhartt's when he hears a thump behind him. Wayne turns but finds no one. The thump sounds again. Then he realizes something, or someone, is banging on the wall from the inside of the shed. He stands and kicks it back in response.

"Hello?" There's another thud. "Darry, that you, now?"

"Wayne?"

Relief floods through Wayne at the sound of his best friends voice. "Hell's bells Darry, what are you doin' in there?"

"D'nno really." Darry's voice sounds slurred through the wall. "Door's... l'cked though. Cannn... ge'out." Wayne glares at the padlock on the doors. Unfortunately, his stare isn't cutting enough to break it.

"Dar."

"Wayne?"

"Here's the scoop and I'm gonna tell ya; I'm gonna call Dad, he'll know what to do, and I'll be right back." When Darry doesn't answer back right away, he taps the wall again. "You hear me okay big shooter?"

"I hear'ya. W'yne?"

"Yeah Dar?"

"S'awful hot'n here..."

For the first time, Wayne thinks about how the sun must be pourin' in from the skylights on the roof. "Guess you better stop keepin' me here, then." He says, before he can say something softer, and takes off for the house.

Mama answers the phone on the second ring. "Hullo?"

"Mama."

"Wayne! Where are ya, now? You didn't get off the bus with Katy, we were startin' to worry."

Wayne don't have time to apologize for that like usual. "'M okay Mama, but send Dad to Darry's house. Tell him to bring tools, somethin's off by a country mile here."

"Tools? What in God's name is going on?" Wayne hears her give Dad a holler and the next minute he's on the line.

"Wayne."

"Dad!"

"What's the fuss now?"

"Darry's locked in the garden shed. Don't know why, but somethin's wrong. Somethin' wrong with Darry's mom too. Don't know what it is, but somethin' bad, that's for G. D. sure." Wayne can feel the panic again, cold and hard. He swallows against it.

"Easy son, I'll be right down. Just keep your head."

"That's a Texas sized ten-four."

Dad hangs up without saying goodbye. Wayne takes off like a jackrabbit back to the shed. He tries to make good on his promise to stay calm, but he can't keep from slapping the wall in a tizzy when he gets there. "Darry?"

"W'yne."

He fights to keep his voice steady. "How're ya now?"

"Head... hurts."

"Don't worry, Dad's on his way, he'll fix things." Wayne don't know if he's talkin' to Darry or himself.

"’Kay."

Wayne glares at the locked door once again. He notices that stupid padlock is new. No chance of breakin' that, no matter how strong he might be for his age. The plywood around the lock though, that ain't new at all. Much easier to break, by the look of it. He gives another knock. "Keep clear of the door now, Dar."

"... 'Kay."

The first kick does nothin'. The next two don't get him much further either, so Wayne figures he might have better luck using his whole body.

He once watched a dog throw itself at a hole in the wall for ten minutes trying to catch a squirrel that had crawled through it, and he can't help but feel the same sort of way as the dog. That same feral energy posseses Wayne as he rams his shoulder against the door, over and over and over.

Five minutes and one very bruised shoulder later, Wayne tumbles into the old shed as the plywood finally cracks under the battering. The air inside is so muggy it feels like he's underwater for a second and he's breathin' as he drops on his knees next to Darry, who's leaned against a stack of old tires, watching him beneath drooping eyelids. Normally, the lazy space case look his friend is givin' him wouldn't be any cause for concern, but paired with the alarming amount of blood congealin' on his forehead 'n matted in his hair, it's got him more whipped up than Mama's kitchen mixer.

"Fuck, Dar, what happened?" He feels warranted usin' the curse word. Darry blinks up at him, unfocused.

"Don't feel s'good W'yne." It don't answer his question, but it do stir him to action.

"Okay Darry, Darry okay, let's get you out of this heat." Wayne don't know exactly what heatstroke looks like, but he knows his dad goes on about enough to know that it's not something he wants Darry to have. "You good to stand there Darry?"

Darry gives a vague nod and Wayne takes it as a green light. He pulls his friend vertical and watches as he promptly spits on his boots. Wayne looks at whiteness of Darry's face, and then down at the puke soaking into his leathers. "Well that's probably not good," he mutters to himself.

Darry's listing against him. "Dizzy." Is all he gets out. Without thinking twice about it, Wayne scoops up Darry and starts carrying him towards the house. It's easy since Darry ain't hit his growth spurt yet and weighs about as much as a sack of flour. When Darry tucks his head into Wayne's chest he can see the cut n' the Canada goose sized egg formed on the side of it and his vision tinges red for a second. He hates that someone hurt his best bud like this. But he's got more important things to do than throw bombs.

He sets Darry in the shade of the open doorway. "Keep your eyes peeled fer Dad now, 'kay?" Darry nods, leaning against the wall.

Wayne heads to the kitchen in search of a clean glass. After some digging, he locates a coffee mug and fills it from the tap, avoiding the dishes that are piled beneath it. Mama would have a fit if this were her kitchen, but that's really none of his business. As an afterthought he grabs the hand towel hangin' from the oven and after givin' it a good cold soak, heads back to the hall and pushes the mug into Darry's hands. "It's important to stay hydrated," he says, plopping himself down. He drapes the towel over his friends shoulders and watches with relief as he perks up ever so slightly. Darry starts gulping the water like a horse at the trough. "Hey there super chief, slow down, or you'll toss another sidewalk pizza there. Just take 'er easy now."

Darry finishes his water in sips as they wait for Dad. Wayne rests his elbows on his knees, and Darry rests his head on Wayne's shoulder. Wayne gives him a good side eye, but otherwise doesn't mention it, despite the fact that he feels like he's been in the splash zone at Sea World with the way Darry's sweat soaks into his side.

"What happened here, Dar?"

Darry shrugs against him. "Dunno Wayne. It's all pretty fuzzy. One minute, I'm findin' mom in the living room, next minute I'm wakin' up the garden shed, bakin' like a potato."

"Pump the brakes, there."

Darry closes his eyes and turns his face into Wayne's arm, smearin' gooey blood against his sleeve. "Didn't realize we were movin'."

"Yer mom's been in there all day like that?"

"Like what?"

Wayne's answer is cut short by a spray of gravel as Dad's truck twists into the driveway, his short stomps growing into long strides as he sees the state of little Darry.

"Wayne, Darry." Wayne gives a curt nod and Dad squats down in front of them, "What's the fuss?" He pries Darry's face out of Wayne's shirt. "Don't look at yer head." He takes the edge of the towel and gently swipes at the gash, the same practiced ease as when he clears calf nostrils after they're born. "Looks like someone got ya good there, Darry. Any idea who?"

Darry gives a half hearted shrug. "Not sure, but I might be able t'guess."

"That skid?" Darry's nod tilts him back towards Wayne.

"Greasynogoodmotherfucker." Dad mutters under his breath before standing. "Alright then, suppose we best be on our way."

"Dad."

"Wayne?"

"I think there's somethin' wrong with Darry's mom."

Dad steps around them into the house. "Kay. I'm sure she's fine, but I'll have a look." He's gone about three minutes and when he comes back he's got a face like there's a storm comin' in on the first day of the harvest. He hands Wayne the keys. "Take Darry out to the truck and turn the AC on. Wait fer me there, you hear me Big Shooter?"

Wayne nods, fingers curling around the teeth of the keys. "Yes, sir." He starts pullin' Darry to his feet, careful to go slow this time. "Come on Dar, pitter patter."

To Wayne's credit, he's excellent at doin' what he's told. He loads Darry onto the bench seat of the truck, turns on the AC, and waits. They wait as an ambulance comes, the ambulance goes, and the Crown Vic with the blue and yellow OPP decal pulls into the drive.

He watches through the windshield as Dad stands in the doorway with the RCMP officer, gesturing between the house and the truck. The officer looks at Wayne and Darry, then at Dad and nods. Dad makes a point to shake the man's hand, as he always does when he goes, before stompin' his way over to the truck. "Yer gonna stay with us tonight Daryl," he says, reachin' over Wayne in the bitch seat to pat him on the shoulder. "Everything's gonna be fine now."

Mama keeps them all home from school the next day, which suits Wayne just fine. He doesn't want to be any further away from Darry right now than he has to be. Darry's still a touch out of it, so they get to stay camped out in the living room without questioning. Daryl's stretched out the length of the sofa, his legs over Katy's lap and for once she ain't makin' a stink about it. She still refuses to touch Darry's feet, but willingly massages his calves, sending concerned glares his way every few minutes. Wayne's parked himself on the floor by Darry's head like a guard dog. If he leans back ever so slightly he can feel the warmth of his friend behind him, which sets him at ease just a touch.

The phone slams in the receiver for the umpteenth time that day. Mama's been on the line with what must be most of the town, trying to cut off threads of gossip that keep weavin' their way back to the house. When she's not tellin' church ladies to mind their beeswax, she's on the phone with Dad, tryin' to sort out what's goin' on and what's gonna happen with Darry now. When those calls come, Wayne makes a point to turn up the TV, ain't no use in Darry stirrin' in that more than he already is.

Wayne's doing his best to focus on a rerun of Northern Exposure and not Mama's low 'this ain't for the kids to hear' voice, when he senses Darry scoot up behind him ever so slightly. Next thing he knows, Darry's face is resting in the crook of his neck. "What's the fuss there Big Shooter?" He asks, trying to turn his head back. All he gets is curls scratchin' against his chin. Darry doesn't say anything, just drops his arm over Wayne's other shoulder, fidgeting fingers fiddling with the snap of the breast pocket on Wayne's shirt. "Dar?"

"I like bein' here," Darry mutters half heartedly into Wayne's flannel.

"... 'Kay."

"It's just... dunno, I feel safer when'm next t'you." The words loosen something in Wayne's chest he hadn't realised was there. It stirs lightly, calling on something Wayne don't quite know how to describe yet. Darry's been tense against Wayne as if he let loose a snake into the room, but relaxes against his back as Wayne reaches up and across to take hold of his best friends hand.

"S'okay Dar," Wayne's voice softens, utterly 10-ply "I won't let anything happen to ya." They're interrupted by Katy clearin' her throat at the other end of the couch. "We won't let anything happen, sorry." He amends.

He lets Darry lay against him as they settle back into the world of reruns and daytime tv. Darry's breaths have evened out when Mama comes in and find him draped over Wayne like a feather boa. She makes a face that Wayne can't decode and opens her mouth, but closes it before sayin' what she'd like to. Something that looks like sadness flickers in her eyes and when she opens her mouth again, all she says is "Dad'll be home in ten, best he don't see this."

Wayne don't have all the pieces, but he manages to puzzle out what she means. He's heard how the kids at school tease Darry, chirpin' how soft he is, how he must be one of them kids who's fruity loops. Heard the sewing circles at church whisper about it too, 'bout how it must be 'cos of somethin' his mom did or didn't do. Wayne don't put much thought into it, on account of those cluckin' hens have about as much sense as a slowly stewed rhubarb stalk. Besides, even if it was true, not even God himself could make Wayne look at his best friend in a bad way. But he knows Dad's twitchy about that kind of thing, so he shakes Darry awake and gives him a little shove so he can sit next to him on the couch.

Mama makes Darry drink more water and checks over the goose egg, holding his face between her hands for a second longer than she needs to. He looks up at her a little moonfaced, but grateful. She's askin' what he wants for dinner when Dad comes in. The two share a serious look and then Dad nods shortly. Wayne notices the blood on Dad's knuckles, but he don't say nothin'. He's old enough to know that means they found that bastard skid.

Dad takes a knee in front of the couch. "Darry, how're ya know?"

"Not s'bad now, sir."

"Good man." Dad puts his hand on Darry's shoulder. "Yer Mama's gonna be just fine now, son. But she's gonna go somewhere to get better, so she ain't gonna be around for awhile, you understand?"

Darry nods. "I understand." He bites his lip, voice shrinking as he curls in on himself ever so slightly. "What's... what's gonna happen t'me then?"

His hands twitch where they're resting in his lap, and the thought of how good it would be to reach out and hold one floats through Wayne's mind. He pushes it away, but gives into the urge to lean against Darry's side and tries not to be jealous at how Katy gets to be the one to take Darry's hand. He relaxes ever so slightly under their touch and Wayne gets that swirl of something in his chest again. He forces himself to focus on Mama and Dad instead of how natural it feels.

Dad's nodding at Mama again before turning back to the kids. "You'll stay with us, son."

"I don't mean t'be an inconvenience," Darry says, more out of habit. Wayne can already hear relief trickling into his voice.

Dad's voice is steady as he responds, "When a man needs help, you help him."

Mama's approach is softer, "You're never an inconvenience darlin', you know we love you here." Her eyes flash to Wayne for a second and he don't quite understand why. Instead of dwelling on it he leans to the side, squishing Darry between himself and Katy, who's followed his lead, both of them trying to convey just how right Mama is, that 'course we love you Darry, of course we do.


	3. Chapter 3

They're sixteen and Wayne can't fathom why his best friend, a guy who's sweet as summer strawberries, seems to have the worst lot in life. He's standing outside the bedroom door, looking in at Katy who's sitting up against the headboard with Darry's head in her lap. There's a plate of dinner Mama must've brought up while he was out doing chores, but it looks untouched. Seeing it deepens Wayne's already somber features. He ain't one to fuss normally, but if anyone were to ever turn him into a worry-wart, it'd be Darry. He ain't eating, or sleeping, hell he's barely moved in three days since the Incident.

They were goin' to play video games on their lunch spare at Darry's mom's house, like they'd been doing every Thursday for the semester. Darry's mom'd been doin' real good, following the safety plan, 'n the rehabilitation plan, 'n whatever other plans she had, so Darry'd been getting to spend more time with her. Wayne didn't quite know what to think of it, but it made Darry happy, and whatever made Darry happy had Wayne's heart pumping like a Mennonite churning butter, so he tried his darnedest not to think about it at all.

Wayne only remembers what happened in flashes, but those bits are seared into his brain like a brand on cowhide. Following Darry through the trailer door, hearing an odd creaking sound, seeing her suspended from the ceiling fan. The next flash they're on the phone, he's got a dial tone in his ear, Darry's face smashed against his chest and he can hear himself murmuring, "Don't look, please don't look Dar," while unable to tear his own eyes away from it. He must've called someone useful he supposes because the next thing he remembers, they're sitting in the box of Dad's truck while police mill around the front yard like ants on a stump.

The memory causes a shudder to run through Wayne's usually sturdy shoulders, and the movement catches Katy's attention. They share a look and Katy shakes her head sadly, knowing Wayne's hoping any progress had been made. She squeezes Darry's shoulder before sliding out from under him. "I'm gonna go Dar, but Wayne's here." She tells him, knowing she won't get more than a slow nod back.

Wayne takes his cue to slip in through the door and kneel down by the bed so he's at eye level with Darry. For a moment, Darry just stares right through him, but then Wayne folds his arm over the edge of the bed and taps his fingers next to Darry's face and watches as the recognition seeps into his eyes like frozen molasses.

He doesn't know what to say, Wayne ain't much for useless hen clucking, but sitting there watchin' his best pal like this is breakin' his damn heart six ways to Sunday, so he just settles for his 10-ply tone and a "How're ya know?"

The only response Darry gives is a heavy sigh as he draws his arm up next to Wayne's. Darry's fingers twitch next to his; he don't say what he wants, but Wayne knows without him having to say a word. He reaches out and takes Darry's hand in his huge paw and when Darry squeezes back it's the first time he's looked halfway to peaceful in days.

Wayne makes a rule not to hold onto Darry's hand for longer than a farmer's shake most times. He prides himself on his control, but something about Darry's hand in his has his heart going faster than a jackrabbit and his face beaming like a stupid sunflower. But Wayne can't deny Darry anything right now, not when he's grabbin' hold like it's the only thing keepin' Wayne next to him. "Hey now, no need for the vice grip there, I ain't goin' nowhere."

Darry doesn't lessen his grip. "I know," he says, voice gravelly from goin' unused. "Feels like the only thing holdin' me here though."

"Where ya gonna go bud?"

"S'hard to explain," Darry says with a shrug "'S like I'm facedown in a lazy river. Can't break the surface, 'n I can't help but feel like I might just drift away."

Wayne doesn't know quite what he's talking about, not really having a first-hand experience with grief, but the heavy look on Darry's face has his heart sinking deeper into his gut and his other hand coming up to sandwich Darry's between both of his. "Don't worry Dar, I won't let you get too far." At his words, Darry gives his arm a slight tug and wiggles over barely enough to make a Wayne sized space on the bed. "Dar..." Wayne shakes his head, heart beating thirty clicks over the speed limit. "It ain't proper..."

"Please," Darry's voice is so small, barely above a whisper.

"If Dad sees us-"

"Wayne."

For all his pride on self control, his name soundin' like a plea on Darry's lips has Wayne's resolve dissolvin' faster than candy floss in the rain. "Okay, Darry," he says, climbing into bed, "Darry, okay." After all, when a man asks for help, you help him.

Darry catches him off guard by pullin' on his arm again so Wayne falls right on top of him. He can feel all of Darry, Wayne's chin on his collar bone, ribs against each other, arms tangled and pinned awkwardly between them. It ain't a sexual thing in the slightest, but it's got Wayne sweating like a sinner in the front pew, because now ain't the time to be focusing on his silly crush. He ain't a guy who wants for much but Lord, if they could just have a moment like this when everything wasn't in the shitter, he'd die a happy man.

He rolls back over, but he doesn't really get any more space between them because Darry immediately sticks himself against Wayne's side like white on rice. "Oh hey now." Wayne says starin' at the ceiling. "There's no need for all that." But his arm's already comin' around Darry's shoulders, so his words are about as empty as Dad's Pupper's after dinner. They stay like that for awhile, in an almost comfortable silence, Darry occasionally nosin' at Wayne's clavicle. Only when that stops does Wayne look down to see a pair of stormy eyes starin' back up at him. "What's the fuss there Dar?"

Darry lunges up and kisses him.

It's messy and awkward, but fuck, it's Darry. Darry is kissing him. The shock has him buzzing all the way down to his toes, and he can't move because Darry's lips are against his and it takes him a second to move past the blaring sirens in his brain and actually process what's happening. "Darry," he pushes him back finally, tv static still fizzing in his veins "What. The actual fuck."

Darry whines, grabbing at the front of Wayne's shirt. "I need you."

"I ain't goin' nowhere, but--"

"You ain't a sally."

"I didn't say that."

"You are then?"

Wayne huffs. "If you ain't seen it by now we better get you glasses stronger than Glen's there. It's just -"

"Yer not interested in me." Darry goes to loosen his grip, and Wayne takes the opportunity to catch Darry's hands in his own.

"I didn't say that, neither. Jesusfuckinchrist stop interrupting me for five seconds." He rolls his eyes but squeezes Darry's hand between them to take the edge off his words. "Here's the scoop and I'm gonna tell ya: I want ya. Christ on a combine, of course I want ya Dar, but not like this. This ain't the proper way to do it." Darry'd been starin' at Wayne's adam's apple for the most part, but at this he looks up. "Yer knee deep right now but you've only got ankle boots, and I'd never feel right about takin' advantage of that."

Darry's squeezin' his hands so tight Wayne can see every freckle crystal clear across his white knuckles. "So yer sayin'..."

"I'm sayin' figure yourself out and then we'll talk. I ain't goin' nowhere, we have time."

Wayne feels his pal's grip finally relax against his. "Wayne?"

"Dar?"

Darry's voice is small again, "You'll still stay tonight though, yeah? Just t'be here?"

Wayne's already tuckin' him against his side, "Like I said, I ain't goin' nowhere."

Wayne's somewhere between awake and asleep, feelin' every one of Darry's even breaths, warm against his neck, when he hears two sets of foot steps pause at the door. He recognizes Dad's low grumble, and the sound of Mama sighing in response. He does his best to continue feigning sleep, keepin' his eyes open just a crack.

"It ain't right." Dad says, voice low. "It ain't right and somebody oughta say somethin'."

"You ain't gonna say nothin' to nobody." Mama says, the words laced with iron. There's no doubt of where Katy gets it from. "This is the first time Darry's rightly slept in days and I won't have you ruin it with your nonsense."

"Don't you see what this is? Or what it's leadin' to, anyways? People in town are gonna start talkin'."

"People in town 'r already talkin'. You think they don't see Darry? The way Wayne follows after him? Let 'em talk, they're tough boys." From under his lashes, Wayne sees Mama cross her arms, "It's all a crock of shit anyways."

Dad looks out into the hallway. "It ain't gonna be easy for them."

"Not with you makin' such a fuss." She points into the bedroom, "Now listen here, this is my house too and I won't have you kickin' up nonsense in it. They're still the same boys, this is still their home."

"But "

"No buts." There's a moment of silence during the face off, but when Mama puts her foot down, ain't no one who wants to be under that boot, so Dad eventually grumbles his way down the hall. Mama looks in on them for a moment before shaking her head and softly closing the door.


	4. Chapter 4

It's 2am and Wayne's leaning over the steering wheel like a ninety-five-year-old woman who should've had her license revoked years ago. Now, he's a good driver, on account of having been driving' since he could barely reach the gas pedal, but he's having a hell of a time focusing on the road and the ditch weeds while his sweetie makes himself into an advanced Where's Waldo.

He's been driving up and down the backroads for an hour now, since Katy came in to his room, sayin' how Darry's bed was empty again. He's kicking himself for not hearing the floorboards squeak when Darry left. One minute he'd been studying for his finals with one ear trained on the hallway, the next thing he knows, Katy is shaking him awake over his Applied Mathematics textbook. So it's up and sneakin' out the back door, hoping Mama and Dad don't wake up and notice either of them are gone before chorin'.

Things have been rocky since Darry's mom died, but these past couple months have gone completely to pot. Wayne doesn't know how it happened, feels like he turned his head for three seconds to try and focus on his last exams, and suddenly his boyfriend turned into somethin' that could rival a degen from upcountry.

He sneers to himself at the word boyfriend as it turns in his thoughts, but that's what Darry is now he supposes, all official and whatnot. He's not ashamed 'r nothin' he just wishes there was a word that didn't make him feel like a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl. Fuck, whatever Wayne wants to call Darry, it's irrelevant if he can't find the bastard.

He'd started at Stewart's house and followed his way out of town from there. Wayne's amazed at how far Darry always manages to make it only on foot. He never seems to follow a straight line either, always ending up on the most inconvenient end of town. To be fair though, Darry never does anything the easy way.

Wayne's blinking hard against heavy eyelids when he finally sees a gap in the curtain of wild oats and switchgrass. He pulls over to find Darry on all fours, spitting' up whatever he'd decided was a dandy idea earlier that night. Sighing, Wayne looks up to God, or the stars, or whatever the fuck might be up there before getting out of the cab.

Darry seems to be mostly done at this point and turns his head when he hears gravel crunching under boots. He squints up at Wayne's silhouette against the headlights, and Lord, Wayne can't help but think about how pathetic he looks.

It's been a hot June, but Darry's still shiverin' in his henley. There's spit on his chin and a worryingly steady drip, drip, drip, of blood coming from his nose. Wayne ain't never ready for the utterly devastating kick in the gut that always comes with finding Darry in a state. If he were a softer guy, he might've cried at the sight, but he's the toughest kid in Letterkenny, nearly a man goddamn it, so he grinds his teeth and squats down beside his buddy.

"Wayne," Darry's voice sounds like he smoked a whole pack in one go.

Wayne gives one of his nods that feels more like a spasm. "Darry," his own voice ain't much better. "How 'r ya now?"

Darry seems to consider it for a second. "Had better nights," he rasps finally, "... but I've probably had worse'uns too."

"Well, let's get this one over with, yeah?" Wayne stands, motioning toward the idling truck before offering a hand. Darry takes it and Wayne hefts him to his unsteady feet.   
Darry sways, turning in and sagging into a pitiful almost hug, tucking his face against Wayne's chest as he goes. "Fuck Dar, you know the bloodstains won't come out."

Darry's head lists to the side as he makes a half hearted effort to preserve Wayne's shirt. "Just soak it in milk."

Wayne doesn't fight the urge to roll his eyes on this one. "Well, I'm glad you haven't killed the brain cells holding your housekeepin' know-how at least." He turns Darry around again, slinging his arm around his waist. "Come on then, pitter patter."

Wayne gets them back to the truck and they're almost home free when Darry wrenches open the passenger door so he can spit again. Wayne grabs a hold of Darry's belt loop to keep him from fallin' out of the cab. "Fer fuck's sake Darry, it's Sunday. Why you gotta do this on the Lord's day, huh?"

"Yer not even Christian." Darry groans as he gets himself back into the truck. Wayne doesn't bother telling him he don't have that kind of money, just reaches over and pulls a wad of fast-food napkins out of the glovebox. He presses them into Darry's hand, but Darry stares at them like he's suddenly forgot what napkins 'r fer, so Wayne takes Darry's hand and pushes it up against his face.

"What'dcha have?" Wayne's done this dance before. He's tired of it, but still, better lookin' at it than for it, and who knows how stupid Darry's been this time.

Darry answers easily, like it's the lunch buffet at the Chicken Chef they're talking about. "Some Gus'nBrew, some schneef," He sniffs. The usual then; unfortunate.

"How much schneef?"

Darry shrugs. "Too much, not enough."

Wayne's not gonna have any molars left by the end of the night, way his jaw's clickin'. "Well, which one is it?"

"Come on Wayne, you know it's always too much."

They don't say anything as Wayne drives them up the road. He knows he'd probably be needin' to apologize for whatever he'd say anyways, so he keeps his trap shut for now. Darry's slumped against the window but Wayne knows he's not sleeping, just doin' his best to avoid a tilly.

Wayne takes them up the highway a bit to the rest stop with a 24-hour Timmies. He pulls into the empty parking lot and cuts the ignition.

"Gonna get a coffee," he says, starin' out the front window. It hurts to look at Darry right now. "You've got a few hours to sober up before chorin'."

He waits for Darry to acknowledge anything he's said but he's only met with silence. A sideways glance lets Wayne know that at least his guy's still breathin', so he calls it good enough and gets out.

He's the only one in the coffee shop, save for the guy behind the counter. It's the same guy from the last two weeks, who nods in greeting. He holds up a pot of coffee and Wayne nods. "And a bottle of water please'n'thanks." He pays for his double-double, grabs some more napkins, and heads back out to the truck.

Wayne comes around the passenger side and sets his coffee on the ground before knocking on the window. He tries not to groan at the sight of sick down the side of his new truck. It was an early graduation gift from his parents, and he hates seeing it messed up. Wayne does his best to shake the thought from his head; he's got bigger fish to fry. "Alright Dar, let's sort this shit out."

He pulls open the door and Darry lets himself be manhandled until he's facin' sideways, legs dangling out of the cab. The original wad of napkins has only served to smear everything across Darry's face, so Wayne dumps some of the water bottle on some fresh ones and goes to work. Thankfully, Darry's nose has stopped bleedin', so Wayne's not fighting an uphill battle as he tries to gently scrub the rust colour out of Darry's peach fuzz. He doesn't look half bad when Wayne's done with him, just pale and tired. It's not great, but he'll take what he can get.

Wayne finally gives in to whatever's been tuggin' at his heartstrings all night and takes Darry's face in his hands, kissing him on the forehead. He's still upset, but he is grateful Darry's not facedown in a creek somewhere. Darry, who's been uncharacteristically still and quiet this whole time, reaches up and grabs the cuff of Wayne's shirt, which is when he realizes Darry's still shaking. Immediately, Wayne steps back and untucks his flannel so he can unbutton it and wrap it around Darry. Wayne's down to his wife-beater, but it's a warm night, so he ain't too bothered by it. He's more focused on pullin' Darry's arms through the sleeves, who finally looks up at him with the tiniest smile.

"You're too sweet to me," he says softly, and fuck, even now, he still manages to set off a swarm of bees in Wayne's chest.

Wayne bends down to pick up his coffee, chasing the feeling away and trying to ignore how tired he is. "Shove over," is all he says in return.

Darry complies, sliding down so Wayne can climb onto the bench before laying himself down across Wayne's lap.

They spend the next half hour in a more comfortable silence as Darry dozes and Wayne sips his coffee, fingers gently tangled in light curls. If he looks out the window instead of at Darry, Wayne can almost lie to himself, pretending they're just on a late night drive.

"Don't tell Mama," Darry's mumbled request pulls Wayne out of his domestic fantasy.

Wayne looks down to meet pleading eyes, and he can't help but shake his head. "She's not stupid Dar, and she has eyes, she can see somethin's goin' on."

The reply breaks something behind Darry's eyes and he blinks hard. "Oh."

"Well what'd you expect there Super Chief? You haven't exactly been Secret Squirrel about all this."

"Yeah, I know. I guess... I just..." Wayne watches Darry's throat work against the words. "I don't know, yer dad already hates me, and you'n Katy can't be far behind at this point. I just didn't want Mama to hate me, too."

Wayne doesn't know what to do with that. "What," he stops for a second, eyes blinkin' like a turn signal, "... the actual fuck." Darry'd turned his head so he didn't have to look Wayne in the eye after he was done talkin', but Wayne drags it back so they're facin' one another. "Darry."

There are tears starting to leak from the corners of Darry's eyes. "Wayne?"

Wayne pushes Darry up out of his lap and turns him so their facin' one another, Darry's shoulders caught between his hands. "Nobody hates you! Fuck, Dar, you've never had more people in yer corner. Katy loves you, Mama downright adores you, I love you so much it fuckin' terrifies me! We're worried here Dar, Fuck, figure it out already." He's all worked up in a tizzy and Darry's starin' at him, jaw slack. "You gonna say somethin' 'r you just gonna sit there catchin' flies?"

Darry shuts his trap, processing something apparently by the way his eyebrows are tryna meet each other. "You just finally tell me you love me?"

The question catches Wayne off-guard. He realises in that moment that he's never actually said the words out loud to Darry. To be fair, he's been thinking it almost every waking second for the last two years, 'n maybe more even, he just never happened to voice it. The first year it didn't seem like the time, what with sortin' out everything with Darry's mom, and then even when they did finally do things proper and get together, it felt like Darry already knew, so what was the fuss? It wasn't that he was avoiding the words, he's more the showin' than sayin' kinda guy is all.

"Like it's any surprise?" He bites his cheek, lookin' out over the dash. "Suppose I coulda made it a little more romantic 'n whatnot, though."

He hears Darry giggle a bit next to him. "This seems more like us anyway."

"Unfortunate, ain't it."

The giggling stops. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Wayne looks back at Darry. "It means I wish this wasn't how it is! Let me ask you somethin' there Dar, you think I like bein' worried and tired all the time? Do you think I like bein' out every weekend, hoping you ain't gone and ended up somewhere doin' somethin' stupid you can't take back? You think I like that the first time I tell you I love you I'm yellin' at you, and you're a c-hair shy from bein' interplanetary? That I like seein' you like this?"

"I'm sorry," Darry's voice is small, but Wayne's still on a rampage.

"Then clean it up! 'Cause it's killin' me Darry, and more importantly, it's killin' you." Darry's cryin' again, and fuck if Wayne doesn't hate himself a little for puttin' the tears there, but sometimes someone's gotta say somethin'. He does pull Darry against his side and tries to make his voice a little softer. "I just don't know what I'd do without ya, bud."

Darry rests his cheek against Wayne's shoulder. "I am sorry. It's just... it feels like life just kinda kicks the shit outta me, sometimes."

"Yeah, life does seem to have dealt ya a pair of threes and told ya to bluff," Wayne squeezes him a little tighter. "But you're not alone at the table, bud."

Darry's scruff scratches against Wayne's exposed collar bone as he nods, "I know, I got you'n all."

"Don't pretend like you ain't been holdin' me at bay lately, you've been actin' like I came to the Jamboree in barn clothes." Wayne doesn't get a response, so he squeezes again. "Dar?"

Darry sighs, "It's just, I know your Dad already hates me, and he gets all squirmy now when he sees us together, I didn't want you to get any more shit about it than you had to."

"Dad doesn't hate you."

"He thinks I turned his son gay and he ain't exactly pleased about it."

"We both know you didn't turn me gay, it's just how he was raised. It's, fuck, what's the word Squirrelly Dan used? Systemic. He ain't leading no parade, but he is workin' on it, it's just takin' some time to adjust." Wayne leans back to look at Darry again, "It might take less time if my... boyfriend," he grits his teeth at the word again, "... would stop acting like a degen all the time."

Darry's got his thinkin' face on again. "I'll try my best."

Wayne kisses the wrinkle between his eyebrows. "That's all 'm askin' for."

They settle into a comfortable silence again, watching the sky turn grey. Wayne tries not to think about how he has to be up for chores in an hour as Darry tucks himself back against Wayne's side. He hums as Wayne's fingers pull gently through his hair.

"You know, you don't have to use the word if ya don't want to." Darry says, sounding sleepy, but his tone is lighter than it's been all night.

Wayne scratches at his scalp, "Boyfriend?" Darry nods. "Well, what am I supposed to call you then?"

"Partner?"

Wayne snorts, "Hard no."

"No?"

"Makes us sound like forty year old lesbians."

Darry seems to mull it over for awhile, "Well, whatever you call me," he says through a yawn, "'m yours, that much is fer sure."

The swarm is back in Wayne's chest, but this time they feel more like moths around candlelight than bees. "Fuckin' 10-ply there, bud," he says, resting his cheek against the top of Darry's head.


	5. Chapter 5

Wayne knows Darry's not asleep, can tell by the way his breaths are comin' like he's countin' the beats out in his head, far too regular, and not a hint of his usual snoring, which is a dead giveaway. Katy might be out on the other side of Darry, always hard to tell with her, but it's likely she's not sleepin', not tonight. No one's sayin' anything, they're just lying huddled together in the dark, pretending not to be awake 'cause hell, it sure would be easier if they weren't. 'Cept the goddamn silence is gettin' to Wayne, cause it's an old farmhouse, things should be creakin', shufflin', anything. There shouldn't be quiet and most important, it shouldn't just be the three of them in the house.

Eventually, Wayne can't take it anymore. He gets up, tryin' to move softly, even though he knows he's got no one to wake. His foot comes across Darry's suit jacket on the floor, where he shucked it earlier tonight. He picks it up and lays it across the back of the chair next to the dresser. He'll hang it up proper tomorrow, right now he can't stand to be in the house a second longer.

Stepping out into the hall, he does everything to avoid looking down to the door at the end of it. Katy shut it almost immediately after they got back from the hospital and none of them have gone near it since. If he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend there are two people sleeping in there, real peaceful like.

He heads downstairs, pausing to pull the banged up pack of Number 7s out of his barn jacket. There's fewer in the box than Wayne would've liked, but the alternative is taking whatever Dad had left in his carton and that thought has him moving out the door like the devil's on his heels.

It's still early into May, so the days aren't quite warm enough to take the chilly bite out of the evenings yet. Wayne thinks about grabbing his coat but the idea of going back into the house cements his feet to the porch so instead he sits down with his back against the railing and lights his first cigarette. It don't matter if he's shiverin' a bit, this is still better than inside.

He smokes his first dart right down to the filter, flicks it into the old Folgers tin they've been using for an ashtray and starts another. Mama always said it was a bad habit to smoke more than one in a sitting, but what the hell, she's not here to stop him now. Two darts turns into three as he tilts his head against the slats of the railing and squints up at the yard light. Thankfully, the farm life has no shortage of noises, so he's not met with silence, like in the house. Wayne does his best to focus on seeing how far out he can hear. There's Gus snuffin' around under the porch, easy. A little further out there are bullfrogs matin' in the rushes. One of Darry's cows causing a ruckus in the pasture, and if he holds his breath, he can hear the cars passing where the range road meets the highway.

This game of his can't keep out what's happenin' forever though, unfortunately. The shuffle of boots makes Wayne lift his head towards the door. He finds himself lookin' up at Darry, who's got his coat on and Wayne's in his hand.

"You look cold as a Winnipeg winter," Darry says, draping the jacket around Wayne's shoulders "and nearly as miserable." He kneels in front of Wayne. "How're ya now?"

Wayne shrugs. He wants to say something along the lines of I don't know how I'm holding up I don't know how I'm feeling, but everything is far too much and entirely not enough all at once and I don't know how to say that so please just hold me, don't ask me how I am like everyone in this goddamn town did this afternoon, just shut up and hold me and we can pretend that this ain't happenin' like we're just sneakin' a late night dart, and that everything has not gone to pot in a matter of days, but there's a lump in his throat and a knot in his chest and he knows he won't make six words before the waterworks kick in. "Not-s-s'good, 'n you?" He chokes out instead.

Darry must catch some of what Wayne's thinkin' though, or maybe he just looks extra pitiful right now, 'cause he cups Wayne's cheek and softly replies with "Yeah, me too." Darry kisses him like either one of them might break, before breaking the moment by pulling back with a sniff. "Jesus Wayne, that dart breath of yours is a two stick problem right there," and it must be bad if Darry of all people's complainin' about it. Darry's rummaging through his pockets lookin' for his box of Wrigley's when Wayne notices the keys in his hands.

"Where you goin' there Super Shoots?"

Darry pauses his search, glancin' out towards his van. "Don't know yet. Just hadta get outta the house."

"How long you goin' for?"

"Can't say fer sure."

"You gonna do somethin' stupid?" The pause before the answer is much longer than Wayne cares for it to be. Darry's just sittin' there, rocking back on his heels, lookin' anywhere but at him. Please don't make me do this again, not now.

He's only thinkin' the last half, but he knows Darry hears what's implied. The last couple years had been good, both of them keepin' their feet on more solid ground after Wayne graduated, hard work at the farm helpin' keep them honest men, especially Darry. He didn't want to start this runnin' around business again. "Dar."

"Dunno what I'm gonna do Wayne, I just can't stay here, not when everything reminds me of them."

Wayne grabs Darry's hand and tugs until Darry's been pulled forward, sittin' criss cross in front of him, knee to knee. "Fuck, Dar, they were my parents. You think I don't feel the same sort of way?"

Darry absentmindedly scratches at a scar on Wayne's knuckle, still not lookin' him in the eye. "'Course I know it, Wayne."

"Then why are you leavin' me here in the thick of it?"

The air between them was chilled, but with Wayne's words it's become downright frozen. Wayne doesn't think he could drill through it with an ice fishin' auger if he tried. They just sit there in the silence, squeezin' each other's hands.

"It don't feel like home here right now, not when it hurts so much." Darry says finally, his face puckerin' like he's got a mouthful of Katy's sour candies.

"Darry, we buried them today, of course it's gonna hurt right now."

Darry sighs, "I know, it's just so much. Like the time I got a clydesdale hoof to the chest."

Wayne nods, "Can confirm. Like the time I took a tumble outta the barn loft and didn't land pretty."

"Like every bad thing that ever did happen to me, all whipped up and baked into a shit pie." Darry looks out to the van again. "I just gotta step away from it for awhile."

Wayne's already feels like he might drown in the spring flood of emotions he's feelin' right now, but the thought of Darry leavin' just about pushes his head under the water. "So tell me this Darry, you're just gonna leave us chest deep here in shit's creek? You're gonna do that to me now?"

Darry finally looks him in the face, "You could come with me."

"You know that I can't."

"Why not?"

Wayne snorts out a laugh but there's no humour in it. "Aunt Nancy sure was right about you. 'Destined for constant confusion.' Yer about five socks short of a load. I love you, but sometimes you really are just spare fuckin' parts." He knows he should probably stop before he says somethin' he'll really have to apologize for, but Wayne's hurtin' something bad and he just can't seem to stop himself. "It's my fuckin' farm now Super Chief, leastways partly my farm. I can't just run away. 'Sides, it's the last bit of Mama 'n Dad we got. How could I ever leave it now?"

"How can you stand to stay?"

Wayne's hurt's turned him right angry now. "Figure it the fuck out Dar, this is what I fuckin' do. I stay, and I do the chores, and I clean up whatever mess is goin' on. Never had time for much of anything else. I just stay, 'cause someone fuckin' has to. I wait, n' work, n' worry that this time'll be the time you don't come back."

The guilt softens Darry's expression a little as he moves to lean in and kiss the wrinkle between Wayne's brows, "I'll be back, I promise." He says, beginning to stand.

"Darry."

"Wayne."

"I'm not known for bein' a beggin' sorta man."

It's one of the few times Darry don't say nothin'. He heads towards the steps but Wayne gets ahold of one of his hands with both of his and just clings. He ain't never been one to make a fuss, but he doesn't know what else to do.

"Please don't go leavin' me." He says it so quiet he almost doesn't hear it but Darry must cause he stops and crouches down beside him again.

Neither of them move for a minute, Wayne just lookin' at Darry with his porch light halo glowin' behind him. Darry gives him a kiss that gives Wayne the flutterin' moths in his chest because he's hopin' just a little that this means Darry's gonna stay. But then Darry slides his hand out from between Wayne's. "I love ya, and I'm sorry," he says, pulling away, and all the moths immolate themselves in the candlelight and all Wayne can feel is burning as he watches Darry start the van and drive off into the night.

Time don't feel like it's passin' as Wayne sits there in the dark. Gus eventually makes his way up the porch steps and tucks himself beside Wayne, nosing at his hands until he wraps his arm around him. Wayne buries his face in Gus's side, waitin' for the waterworks to start, 'cept they don't; they just sit there tying knots in his esophagus, refusin' to start or stop, which is arguably worse than just fuckin' cryin' already.

Wayne don't know how it crept up without him noticing but suddenly it's dawn and Katy's standing in the doorway in her boots and housecoat, lookin' at him like he's about as pitiful as a soaked kitten. "Dary at the barns already?"

Wayne's jaw clenches as he works to get his tongue around the words "He, he left."

Katy gives him a confused glare. "He what?"

"Fuck there Katy, ya gone deaf overnight? He left. Gone. He got in the van and he drove off."

Katy's mouth open 'n shuts, 'n opens again as her features go from confused, to angry, to sad, and you know things are bad when Katy's got nothin' to say about it. She finally settles on, "Well, fuck."

"Yep."

They're both just starin' at each other, trout-mouthed. Wayne's got a grip on Gus' collar 'n it's pertnear the only thing keepin' him grounded until Katy comes and sits next to him. Her knee against his is the last drop needed for the levy to finally break and the tears come and they don't fucking stop. He just sits there sobbing into Gus as Katy puts her arm around him. "Hey there, Big Brother," she says through her own tears, but then she gets stuck again, 'cos really, what is there to say? So they just sit there in the morning frost cryin' with the dog, trying not to listen for the sound of an engine comin' up the lane.


	6. Chapter 6

Darry just might spit, he's so nervous. The van's been idling in the dark at the edge of the property for five minutes just waitin' until he lifts his foot off the break. He hates this, he ain't ever been scared of coming here, not like this anyway, but the image of Wayne's face as he was leavin' is enough to make him throw it into park.

Four days he's been gone. Feels like four seconds and four years all at once. From the lane things seem right as rain, like he could walk in and nothin' would be outta sorts. Katy'd be painting her toes at the kitchen table, Mama would be finishing up the last of the dinner dishes she'd set to soak. She'd smack him with the tea towel as he comes through the door, givin' him a little heat for missin' meal time. Wayne 'n Dad would be in the living room, Dad reading the Farmer's Almanac, Wayne whatever book he'd picked up from the library that week. He would settle in next to Wayne with a nod to both of them. Life about as balanced as it could be right there. But he knows the moment he gets out of the van, it all goes back to where he left it.

"Come on then, Dipshit," Darry says to himself, trying to will himself to put the van in drive again. "Better lookin' at it than for it." The phrase unfortunately does very little to motivate him to action. He's still warring with himself and the gearshift when a sharp bark startles him. He opens the door to find the new puppy lookin' back at him. "Hey there, Stormy girl."

Stormy's got her paws up against the edge of the door, tail just a-goin'. "Nice that someone's happy to see me, at least." He says, scooping her up and giving her a good scratch. "Don't think I'm gonna get such a warm reception inside." Stormy just licks his chin and whines in reply. "Can we just stay here for a bit, you and I?" He asks her, to which she promptly answers by jumping off his lap. "Guess that answers that then."

Darry watches as she pads about ten paces up the lane before turning around and starin' at him. She barks at him again.

"Who the fuck are you? Lassie?" He calls out, but she just plants her butt and cocks her head expectantly. He's about to shut the door again when she starts barkin' her head off, and this isn't how he wants them to know he's back, so he kills the ignition and jumps out, hurrying towards the pup that's now excitedly dancing around looking for a stick for him to throw.

Stormy manages to herd Darry to the front door and that's where his boots seem to stick. He gets a hand on the doorknob and his whole body tenses, heart beatin' faster than any schneef fuelled night. "Pitter fuckin' patter," he mutters under his breath, turning the knob.

He steps into the mud room, careful to close the door as quiet as he can. From here, he can see Katy at the table, back to him, bottle of Puppers in her hands. She seems too focused on peeling the label off to have noticed him yet, either that or she's not speaking to him on account of him bein' a terrible friend 'n all. Either way, Darry takes it as an invitation to try and slip on up the stairs.

Katy doesn't look up from her bottle as he makes his way to the steps. He's got a hand on the railing before he hears a stern, "Pump those breaks Darry," and he does, because when Katy tells ya to do something, you do it.

He shuffles his way to the edge of the kitchen counter, tryin' not to look at Katy directly. Darry finds a scrap of tin foil from one of the dozens of casseroles people have been thrown' at them. Most of them are less than appealing, a mess of whatever people wanted out of their kitchen. Since when did funerals start bein' a place where people just cleaned out their fridges? Gotta leave this world behind.

He must've been thinkin' a beat too long cause Katy's clearin' her throat and when he finally looks up at her she's glaring at him expectantly. "Darry."

"Katy."

"You look like you've been dragged through the hedge backward. Where ya been, there?"

Darry shrugs. "Been up since sparrow fart. Drove the highway 'bout two days west. Turned around fer two days east, I suppose."

"You sober?"

"Pertnear to it."

"You clean?"

The question ain't too far outta the hay field, but it still feels like a slap in the face. Darry kicks a toe against the counter, feelin' the sting behind his eyes. "Yeah Katy, I ain't touched the stuff."

Katy's face softens ever so slightly as she rises from her spot at the table. "You know I had to ask." She starts gathering up her dishes of nearly untouched Lasagna, and Darry's eyes go to Wayne's place, which has an empty plate and a full beer sittin' at it. "Hardly been able to get him out of his room for three days." She says, nodding towards the vacant chair.

Darry's pretty sure he feels heart drops down to his knees "Is that so?"

Katy nods "He went out the first night to get hammered, but ever since, it's just chores, 'n even then, only the ones we absolutely gotta do. Never seen him like this before. Everything's been bad enough, you leavin' was that BC cherry on top of the shit sundae I suppose."

Darry looks guiltily at his socks. "He mad then?" He asks quietly, afraid of the answer.

Katy gives a short humourless laugh. "I wish he was mad. I wish he was anything other than long in the face." Her response does jack shit to untangle the knot in his stomach. "Don't you worry though, I'm mad as a wet hen, plenty enough for the both of us." She pauses for a moment before sighing and continuing in a quiet voice, "Or I was, right until you walked through that door."

Darry's pretty sure he gives himself whiplash with how fast his head snaps up. "And now?"

"And now," she says, setting the Pyrex dish on the counter, "Now I'm just so relieved you're back okay I almost can't remember how to be angry Almost." She closes the space between them and wraps him up in a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. "What were you thinking?" she says into the collar of his henley.

"I wasn't."

"Clearly."

His own eyes get damp as he feels her start to cry against him. "I'm so sorry Katy-Kat," he chokes out.

She squeezes him tighter. "Why the fuck would you do that to us?"

"Cause I'm an idiot."

"Damn right you are." She pulls back so she can look him in the eye and lord, seein' Katy look distraught is something Darry never wants to see again. "Don't you know much we need you here? How much we love you?"

Course he knows, but it's about as easy to get blood from a stone as it is to have Katy tell you how she feels without gettin' a glare to go with it, so hearin' that has Darry pullin' her close again and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry," is all his brain can come up with, and he just keeps repeating it until Katy gives him a little shove backwards.

"Okay, I know, I know, enough of this Full House tomfuckery," she says, but her voice is still soft. "Upstairs, you need to shower; smell like a skunk that fucked a dead possum."

"Well, to be fair, it's been about four days since I was near a shower."

"Well, pitter patter, then. Sooner you wash up, sooner you can sort things out with Wayne."

Darry freezes. "Maybe I do that in the morning."

Katy fixes him with her best glare. "No fuckin' way Darry, you'll clean it up tonight. Won't have you breakin' his heart any more than you already have."

"But-"

"No buts."

He tries to get his voice above a whisper. "But what if he don't want to see me?"

The smack and the eye roll is dramatic, even for Katy. "If you think he doesn't want to see you, you don't know Wayne at all."

There's always been a draft in the old farm house, but that's not why Darry's shakin' as he steps out into the hallway. He keeps his eyes down, knowing if he lifts 'em he'll see all the photos Mama made Dad hang so carefully. He'll see the Halloween costumes, and the 4-H portraits and front and centre, a picture of Wayne, Daryl, 'n Dad ice fishing this past winter and if he looks at that one, well it's one flood he won't be able to dam up.

The floorboards creak under his feet as he shifts his feet back 'n forth in front of Wayne's door. It's not all the way shut, which is off for Wayne, who's a closed door sleeper, no exceptions, but it means Darry can see the outline of him, on top of the covers, wrapped around Gus. There's the throw from the living room loveseat loosely over top of him, so Katy must have been in at some point.

"Christ Dar, shit or get off the pot already."

Wayne's words startle Darry, who didn't know he'd been spotted, but then again, he never was one for bein' Secret Squirrel. He pushes the door open the rest of the way and creeps in.

"Wayne."

"Darry."

Darry don't know what to do next, fidgeting in front of the bed like he used to in front of the line dancin' judges. Wayne won't get his face outta Gus's neck, so he's stuck starin' at the boxer. "Since when do we allow the dog on the beds?"

"Since you weren't here to take your side, I suppose."

The words throw Darry off. They sound like somethin' Wayne would say, but it don't sound like Wayne sayin' it. There's somethin' off about them, hollow-like. "Aw, Wayne."

Wayne lets go of Gus to glare up at Darry, but the look's just as empty as his words, and not nearly as threatenin' as it's probably intended when Wayne's still got half his face in the pillow. "I got half a mind to tell ya t' go kick rocks."

Darry's suddenly very interested in the moths fluttering at the window. "Wouldn't fight ya on it there." As Gus, finally free of Wayne's grip, scampers off and makes good his escape, he looks over and that's when he sees the yellowing bruise bloomin' all up Wayne's cheekbone, and boy does it have a grisly look in the moonlight. Darry crouches down so he's at eye level it with reaches out ever so gingerly to bush at the mark with his thumb "You been fightin' there good buddy?"

Wayne lets him keep a hand on his face as he gives a half-assed shrug. "It's likely."

"Didya win?"

"Don't remember."

Darry's well worn look of confusion makes an appearance. "You don't remember?" Wayne don't never forget a good fight, not even the ones that probably knocked a few screws loose.

"I was in Modean's, liftin' that fourth sheet to the wind, n' then I was outside Modean's, n' then that's it really."

"Don't worry big shooter, I'm sure you're still the toughest guy in Letterkenny."

There's a moment like the three seconds after a song finishes playing on the radio, a static silence fillin' the air, only instead of a DJ cuttin' in, it's just Wayne, usin' the smallest voice Darry ever did hear.

"To be fair... don't feel real tough right now."

Wayne's blinkin' at twice the speed he usually do, which is sayin' something for the guy. His eyes get real misty, and if that just don't put Darry's heart in a vice and press. "Oh hey now," he says, pushing his way onto the bed. Wayne stiffens when Darry gathers him up in his arms, and for a moment he's worried Wayne's gonna kick him in the shin or somethin', but instead he takes a shuddering inhale and just melts against Darry, sobbin' like he ain't never gonna stop. "Okay Wayne, Wayne okay, okay there Wayne."

Darry's never had to be the one doin' the comfortin' before and he's about three miles upstream with no oar in his canoe, but damn it he's trying his best. His best right now apparently is letting Wayne cling like a barnacle and give his t-shirt a good salt water soak. "S-s-s-sorry," Wayne gasps, doin' his best to catch his breath a bit. "N-no needfr'sucha f-fuckinfus-s-s."

"To be fair," Darry rasps, his own tight throat makin' his voice hoarse. He squeezes Wayne a little tighter when he gets a mushed together t'be'fr from him. "To be fair, if ever there was a time for a fuckin' fuss, it'd be 'bout now."

"Well now. Y'wannaknowwhat. It's just..." Wayne's fingers tangle the back of Darry's t-shirt like the flip side of one of Aunt Nancy's cross stitch hoops. "You fuckin' left."

"I know."

"I asked ya not to leave, and ya fuckin' left."

"It was not one of my gold star moments there."

Wayne sniffs, wipin' his nose on Darry's collar which is all sorts of inappropriate but Darry's not gonna call him on it. "I thought I'd be mad at'cha."

Darry reaches up to scratch Wayne's scalp. "You should be good 'n mad at me right about now."

"That's what I thought, I thought I'd be good 'n mad at'cha right now." He leans in to Darry's touch. "But I'm just sad, and you wanna know what, I think I like that even less. At least I know how to be mad." Darry's too busy blinkin' back tears to respond, so he just keeps holdin' onto Wayne as they stew a while.

"I almost don't want to ask this," Wayne says finally, "but, you didn't get into anything stupid while you were gone did you?"

The farmhouse stills around them and Darry can feel Wayne holdin' his breath against him. "The only stupid thing I did was leave, pinky promise." Darry lets his hand run down Wayne's side until he finds the other's hand and links their pinkies together.

Wayne lets out a short hmmn. "Don't know if all that's necessary," but the tension leaks from his shoulders again and he keeps his hand next to Darry's, the callouses of his palms brushing over the scars on Darry's knuckles.

Darry finally twists up the courage to pull back and look at Wayne. The gutted look on his love's face is still a good drop kick in the solar plexus, but 'leastways, Wayne's lookin' him in the eye now. He can't help movin' in fer a kiss, the squeezing around his heart letting up a bit when Wayne lets him. "I'm sorry Wayne."

"I know ya are."

"I mean it."

"I know ya do." Wayne sighs, his whole body workin' up to what he's gonna say next. "Don't mean I'm not still scared you're gonna leave again."

Darry frowns. "I'm not gonna leave."

The squint he gets might have been a relieving landmark that they were back into normal Wayne territory, were it not so accusing. "You left this time."

"Well, yeah." Darry feels like he's swallowin' stones about now. "Look, leavin' was shitty.

Wayne's squint deepens. "’Kay."

"And I ain't got no excuse."

"... 'Kay."

"It's just, okay, look here, so, lotta shitty things've happened in my life."

"Can confirm."

"'N your family... probably be about as close to stable as I ever got."

He can tell Wayne's not quite sure where he's goin' with all this. "It's likely..."

"Well, so, this place is the only safe place I had. Even when your Dad was less than friendly that year -"

The pad of Wayne's thumb presses his thumb hard into Darry's palm. "Dad fuckin' loved you.

"I know, I know he did." Darry frantically tries to smooth over, "But even when we were still sortin' it out, still felt good to be around here, with Mama 'n all, it always felt good to be here." His throat's latched tighter than a rusted stall door as he tries to get the words out. "'N then they were gone, 'n nothin felt good, 'n it felt like losin' my Mom all over again, only tenfold. Everything 'round here kept remindin' me that nothin' was stable anymore, 'n that I'd lost three of the only five people who's ever loved me."

Wayne's voice is husky again as he brings their foreheads together. "Aw, Dar."

The gate unlatches finally, and this time he can't hold back the tears. "'N then I went and fucked up by leavin' the remainin' two."

They lay in the dark, with only the sound of them both sniffin'. Darry pulls his hand out of Wayne's grasp in favour of wrappin' it around his waist again. They're not really ones fer outright huggin' all that often, but right now if Darry lets go, he feels like he might just start fallin' and never stop. Lucky for him, Wayne's got a good grip around his torso, keepin' him right where he needs to be.

"It won't be like this forever ya know," Wayne says, breath tickling Darry's cheek. "I know it don't feel like home to you right now, but..."

"No," Darry interrupts, pulling back and wipin' his eyes so he can see Wayne instead of just a tear-streaked blur. "I shouldn't have said that, it was wrong. You're my home. And I ain't gonna forget that again."

"Darry." Wayne's got a squint again, but he's got his sixteen-ply smile on, the one with the little dimple that Darry might go as far as to say he adores. "That might be the softest fucking thing you've ever said."

Darry can't help but smile back. "Can confirm."


End file.
